Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
D arcy did not acknowledge the servant rushing to meet him; still clad in his coat and hat, he strode past the grand stairs and turned into the corridor with determined strides. Though he could not precisely say in that moment where he was headed, his need for solitude was of the utmost importance. In the direction he was heading lay the gallery, a room he knew had been mostly unoccupied since the arrival of their unexpected guests. It was the sanctuary he sought, where he could be alone with his tumultuous thoughts.
Upon reaching the gallery, he swung open the doors with force. Inside he saw it was exactly what he needed: a quiet, elegant room, with tall ceilings, grand windows, ornate furniture, and tasteful works of art. But most importantly, there was not another soul inside. The fire was unlit, assuring him that Miss Bingley had no plans for using the room.
His gaze rested almost immediately on a settee in the middle of the room. Tossing aside his hat, Darcy walked over and collapsed into its thick cushions. His shoulders heaved as he inhaled and exhaled sharply, attempting to gather his thoughts. However, the persistent image of Elizabeth exchanging vows with Royce shattered his ability to think clearly. He buried his face into his hands and dug his fingers into his head. What a fool I am to believe I ever had a chance.
Moments later, he looked up and stared out of the room’s large windows, attempting to find peace in the view of Hertfordshire’s snowy countryside. He found little solace in the pretty landscape and realised his leg was trembling almost uncontrollably. Unable to stay still any longer, Darcy stood abruptly, clasped his hands behind his back, and began to pace the room. Maddening, it was simply maddening. There was no other way to describe it. He had come so far in just a few days, and now Elizabeth had decided she would accept another man, a man she did not even love.
His pacing slowed at the far end of the room, coming to a stop in front of a large portrait of a gentleman he assumed was a former owner of Netherfield. He fixed his gaze on the stern figure depicted in the painting, but his thoughts wandered far from the image before him.
Was this how it was to end, after all this time? After years of yearning and regret, they had been thrown together again for what purpose? That he might watch as she entered into a loveless marriage? For she was resolved to say yes, and Royce was sure to ask her again very soon. He saw how the man practically wagged his tail every time she came around. Obsequious, wheedling nodcock.
Releasing his hands from their tight clasp, Darcy calmed himself with several deep breaths. He knew it was not right to think so harshly of Royce. The man had done nothing wrong in taking advantage of an opportunity that he had foolishly thrown away. Rather than censure, Royce deserved praise for his cleverness in taking a treasure where he saw one. Not that Darcy could praise the man he so envied, of course.
Exhausted and downcast, Darcy rubbed the back of his neck. What am I to do now? Leave? Fight? He was so weary of this battle for Elizabeth’s heart—constantly tossed about, feeling the depths of sorrow at her disdain for him, only to be lifted to the highest jubilation if she merely cast a warm look in his direction. And now, again, he was thrown back into deepest despair as he learnt he had lost the battle.
A rush of anger coursed through him. Turning around sharply, he strode across the room back towards the settee, raised his hand as he clenched it into a fist, and slammed it down into the cushioned arm. Then he did it again, and again, and again, every strike pushing him deeper into frustration. Finally, feeling as though he had allowed his pent-up emotions to escape, he sat down on the settee again. After this outpouring of anger and frustration, he found sorrow was the only emotion left. It only compounded his grief to know that this feeling would be his only companion the rest of his days.
He knew Elizabeth would scold him for such an outburst of temper. Thinking of how she would admonish him for such a display made him smile for the briefest of moments before sadness again overwhelmed him. What was he to do? It was hopeless. He had lost her.
What would he do without her the rest of his life? Without this unpredictable and lovely woman, forever keeping him on edge, making him feel alive? She pulled him in with the brilliance of her mind, only to cut him down to size and pull the rug out from under him the next moment with her wit and good humour. He was left in a daze after every interaction, every moment spent trying to match wits with her, and it was so frustratingly wonderful. A future without her seemed bleak indeed.
Perhaps he should just leave Hertfordshire and be done with it. Surrender all hope and go on with his life, doing everything he could to put it behind him. He sat in silence as thoughts continued racing through his head.
Why would she do this? Why would she enter into a marriage where she did not actively love her partner? A small voice in his head told him that he knew why. Had he not said it himself in his remarks about Mr Bennet’s paternal failures? Because she had to, to secure her own future where her father had not.
She was a woman who deserved to live a life full of love; it was the only way she could thrive. She would only wither being married to a man like Mr Royce, for he would not inspire her passion or stimulate her intellect. Yes, she would be comfortable and would not want for anything with regards to material needs, but at what cost? She would have put to death her heart.
Sitting up, Darcy reached in his pocket and withdrew a small object, smoothing his thumb over it as he often did when needing to calm his thoughts or revisit a memory. His misery began subsiding as he realised Elizabeth had not yet told Royce she would marry him.
If she has not yet said ‘yes’, perhaps there is still time to change her mind. Perhaps I still might hope.
Something had held her back, and their own friendship had been re-established and deepened. Was it possible she still felt something for him? In the last day or two, something in her look and manner suggested it was possible. Perhaps she is marrying Royce only because she is unsure of my feelings.
Heartened, Darcy decided to change his course, and actively pursue her. He would not allow a woman as wonderful as Elizabeth to commit to a life where she would not reach her full potential for happiness. She needed to be aware she had a choice, to know that his feelings had remained unchanged since that long-ago spring and that he would follow her to the ends of the earth if needed. This was his last chance. If he was to go down in this fight, he would go down swinging.